The Protectors of Fortuna
by I'm Schmidt
Summary: The Fortuna Conclave, Inquisitorial guardians of the Fortuna Sector, have long been scrutinized by their colleagues and outside forces for their totalitarian ways. Now, as they struggle to contain an incursion in the sector, they find that such scrutiny may be needed, as one among them dabbles with forbidden technology and threatens the entire sector.
1. Accessing the Vault

+++ Inquisitorial Vaults Accessed +++

+++ Article selected: _The Protectors of Fortuna; _an autobiography +++

+++ Warning! Selected article is classified. Please enter authorization code +++

+++ Checking password. Please wait +++

+++ … +++

+++ Password verified. Welcome, Inquisitor +++

+++ Multiple tags available. Select a tag? +++

+++ Tag selected; Chapter 106 - The Incident at Turek +++

+++ Written and audio file available. Please select a file classification +++

+++ Audio file chosen +++

+++ Begin file +++


	2. Inquisitorial Communique

**Transmitted:** Librarium Daemonicum, Tethys, Sol System, Sector Solar, Subsector Sol, Segmentum Solar  
**Date:** 3201666.M41  
**Astropath:** Prime Tashtal  
**Ref:** .041820/D  
**Received:** Inquisitorial Black Ship _Imperator's Gaze_  
**Subject:** The Fortuna Conclave

**Clearance Level: **Extremely Classified

_Lord Haren, _

_I have finished my research into the Fortuna Conclave. I feel confident you will be pleased by the thoroughness of my work. That is, of course, for you to determine. Given the large amount of information gathered I have been forced to send my collated work to you via the Black Templar Strike Cruiser _Endless Devotion_, secured by a contingent of Grey Knights. The Black Templars were more than keen to aid us in this endeavour, for reasons that will become apparent once you have read my work. I shall attempt to give you a synopsis of that work, for the time being, until the document arrives._

_The Fortuna Conclave is, as you know, a gathering of our colleagues in permanent residence in the Fortuna Sector. Records indicate it was formed some two millennia ago, although this information is subjective at best. They have an iron grip on the sector; in an unprecedented mood they took control upon formation and have retained their authority ever since. There have been whispers that their methods are brutal, even by our standards, but given the actions normally undertaken by the Inquisition this has been dismissed as normal. But, as you are well aware, recent events have thrown doubt onto their capability and their loyalty._

_My work is complete here. I return now to my work. Should my lord have further need of me in resolving the issue we discussed earlier, rest assured I will be there to assist him._

_The God-Emperor protects!_

Petyr Zas

_Inquisitor, Ordo Hereticus_

**Thought for the Day: **_There is no such thing as innocence. Only degrees of guilt._


	3. 1 - Intrigue in the Shadows

**Chapter One**

**Intrigue in the Shadows**

The room was dark.

The glow-globes had been extinguished, the shutters closed. There was not a single shaft of light, nothing to indicate the room even had a source of illumination to push back the suffocating darkness. Ancient portraits hung silently, the figures painted there blind to anything that might occur. Even the weather outside seemed bent on maintaining the silence of that chamber; the wind, howling for the better part of the day, had fallen quiet.

The room was dark.

For what seemed like an eternity the darkness reigned supreme until, with no warning or sound to raise alarm, a beam of light made itself known. As though intent on defeating all that it saw before it the beam widened, exerting its supremacy over the darkness until almost the entire room was subjected to its vision. As quickly as that light had appeared it was eclipsed once more, and the black reigned supreme.

The room was dark. But it was no longer empty.

Six shadows, creeping in through the light until they were within the midst of the darkness, made their way to the very centre of the room. There they stood, enjoying the comfort of the night. A brilliant blue light stole that comfort from them, momentarily illuminating the chamber before settling into a dimmed state. Even in such a state it highlighted the outlines of the six figures, each positioned around the holographic projection table. Their features hidden beneath their raised hoods, the figures were silent for some time, as though afraid to disturb the chamber, lest the wind outside take offence and start up once more.

Finally, one spoke. The only means of distinguishing him from the others was the golden chain draped from his neck, placed at an odd angle on the outside of his robes. As he spoke the table projected an image; though it had no colour to it other than the light blue of a hologram, it very clearly represented a city, scaled down to rotate above the six figures.

"The reports are accurate?"

"They are." The reply came almost immediately, the voice a harsh one.

"We expected as much. Time was wasted waiting for these reports. We should have acted by now." A third voice, colder than the previous but somehow less harsh.

"Patience is a virtue," the voice that replied was female this time, a stark contrast to the others. "Given the extremity of our plan, absolute proof was needed."

"She is correct," another new voice. Male but calm, devoid of emotion. "Clarity is necessary if we are to take the next step. These reports confirm our suspicions; there can be no doubt."

"Oh thank you!" The Harsh voice, now dripping with scorn and sarcasm. "Do we have your blessed approval to continue? I should hate to think we had acted without your permission!"

Before the Neutral voice could reply, the final shadow spoke. "Enough. All were correct; we needed confirmation, but our delay may prove costly. We have the reports; now we must act." Blunt, to the point, direct.

"The city must be cleansed," Harsh voice said. "We burn them all."

"The outlying villages should be burnt as well," Cold voice added, with an additional tone that highlighted his apparent bloodthirsty nature. "We do not know how far the enemy's reach has stretched."

An objection was made then, voiced by the Female voice and supported by Neutral voice nodding. "No. We agreed on a course of action. We stick to it. To do otherwise would draw too much attention."

"Agreed." The first voice again, belonging to the shadow with the gold chain. "Do we have consensus?"

No one made a sound. That was enough.

"Very well. The order is given." When next a sound was made, it was by the combined voices of all six shadows.

"In Imperator nos fides!"


	4. 2 - A Friend in Need

**Chapter Two**

**A Friend in Need**

Date: _201.M41_

Time: _0400 hours_

Place: _Emperor's Light_, orbit of Turek

"I repeat. This is Inquisitor Alexandros Constantin Hourn of the _Emperor's Light_. You are to stand down all defences immediately and prepare for the arrival of Inquisitorial forces. If you do not acknowledge that you have received this message I will be forced to take that as a refusal to comply."

There was no answer. Nothing but static, that was. Gazing out of the transparent glass that served as a viewing screen, Alexandros' sight of Turek was partially obscured by the large, ominous space station that hung in orbit of the planet.

Though the space station was Imperial by designation, any sign of that allegiance seemed to have been removed. The double-headed eagle – the very symbol of the Imperium of Man itself – was gone from the hull, but traces still remained here and there. It looked as though someone had clawed it off, using claws inhuman in size or origin. Where once Alexandros knew the station had been whole there were now huge gashes, again looking as though they were made by impossible claws, and entire sections of the hull were missing. They weren't half-attached, or floating gently in the darkness around the station. They simply weren't there.

The sight of the wounded station was enough to send a shiver down Alexandros' spine.

That wasn't an easy thing to do.

"I grow tired of this waiting," a voice growled. Turning to face the speaker, Alexandros' did his best not to grit his teeth in annoyance. Lutrex was a difficult man to stay calm with at the best of times, let alone when he was in a foul mood. "I'm going."

There were two sides to Lutrex; his normal persona and his intolerable one. When he was calm he was bearable; gruff and to the point, quick to jump to the easiest conclusion and always willing to see the worst in any person or situation, but logical and capable of a rational discussion. His intolerable mood usually reared its head when he was angry. He became impatient, almost bloodthirsty in his desire for action, unable to sit still and more than ready to turn a small problem into a sector-wide one.

Today was one of those days when he was intolerable. But for Alexandros, one of his colleagues, the intolerable had long since become merely difficult.

"No," Alexandros replied, holding Lutrex's icy stare. "We wait. Do not forget, Beatrix is on that station. I will not risk her life to satiate your desire for action." There was a sound behind Alexandros, one he knew all too well. Whenever the captain of the _Emperor's Light_ had something to report, and Alexandros' was already in conversation, he would give a small cough. But Alexandros dared not turn to speak to him; the confrontation with Lutrex was priority.

It wasn't that he expected his colleague to attack him, not physically at least. It was more a case of not wanting to tempt fate. Alexandros rarely conversed with Lutrex; any operation requiring them both to be present usually meant more than one ship being used, and they would both be on different vessels. But the Lord Inquisitor had assigned only the _Emperor's Light_ to this particular operation, forcing the two to share the same living space for the four week journey.

Alexandros was concerned Lutrex's impatience was about to boil over, after a month pent up.

It was to his surprise that the dark-skinned inquisitor, whilst still holding Alexandros' gaze, tilted his head ever so slightly. Agreement? This was something new.

"Fine. I still don't see why we sent Le Mayn ahead. She's a bureaucrat, not a fighter."

"Beatrix is a diplomat, Lutrex, and the finest among us. You know that. And we didn't give her this assignment; the Lord Inquisitor sent her ahead of us to see if this could be resolved without us needing to be involved. Now we need to rescue her."

Lutrex snorted. The sound was always something Alexandros had compared to that of a person with augmetics; it seemed more mechanic than human. Alexandros finally turned his back to his colleague, even as Lutrex replied.

"Without our involvement? Please. These heretics were never going to submit just because Le Mayn asked them to. All we've done is put one of our own in harm's way trying to avoid an outcome that was inevitable from the start."

Alexandros was tempted to comment on the irregularity of Lutrex waxing philosophical, but chose instead to incline his head to the waiting captain.

Darmos was a small man, much smaller than either of his Inquisitorial superiors. Centuries of living had weakened his frame, causing him to hunch and move aided by either a cane or a grav-chair. His head was bald but for a few thin wisps of white, and liver spots coloured his hands and skull. His appearance, however, was deceiving.

There was a reason that Darmos was still captain of an Inquisitorial vessel at the age of four hundred and six. The art of command was one that came easily to him. Whether it was a small squadron of escorts or a flotilla of grand cruisers made no difference; Darmos would utilize his amazing adaptive capabilities to fit any scenario and come out victorious. Only twice in his career had the hunched captain been bested; first by a Necron fleet and then during the twelfth Black Crusade, when his fleet was beset on all sides by the ships of the Arch-Enemy. Both times he had survived, along with a few other ships, and lived to wreak vengeance on those who had wounded his reputation.

This little man, whom so many dismissed at first glance as nothing more than a helpless savant or historian, had been subjected to all the life-extending treatments the Inquisition could get their hands on. His expertise was without question, his talent invaluable. Yet he was humble, never forgetful of his place as a servant of the Inquisition and its membership.

"The survey is complete," Darmos wheezed, his shaking hand pushing a data-slate in Alexandros' direction. "Four defence monitors, three _Falchion_ escorts, two _Dauntless_ light cruisers and a larger vessel that our archives cannot pin down."

That perplexed Alexandros. What vessel could possibly be found in orbit of an Imperial planet, yet not in an archive compiled by the Imperial Fleet?

"Show me."

Following the captain to the nearest station, the two watched quietly as the crewman brought up a more detailed description of the unknown vessel. Line upon line of information passed before Alexandros' eyes, but it was only when the faint outline was produced, accompanied by brief reports of distress felt by the psykers on the _Emperor's Light_ when they looked towards the waiting defence fleet, that the Inquisitor knew the vessel.

Once more he turned to Lutrex who, rightly, was stood nearby waiting for Alexandros to brief him.

"We have a serious problem. That ship," he waved his hand almost dismissively at the screen, still showing the outline of the vessel some several thousand kilometres ahead. "Is a demonship. Judging by the outline it may once have resembled something close to a _Hades_-class heavy cruiser, but if you combine the changed physical appearance with the reports of our psykers, the picture becomes clear."

It was only when he'd finished that Alexandros realised the bridge had fallen silent, but for the crewman in front of him, making notes in the database. That was smart; he was making records for future Inquisitors, so that they weren't left in the same situation the _Emperor's Light_ would have been but for Alexandros' presence. Even Lutrex seemed unable to comprehend what he was being told, but that inability to speak lasted only a few seconds longer.

Then his impatience won out.

"Can we beat it?"

His words gave Alexandros' pause for thought. Among his colleagues his expertise was the same as Darmos'; he was the naval expert. That was why Darmos, though technically the captain of the _Emperor's Light_, willingly deferred to Alexandros. That and his career as an Inquisitor. But the question was not one he could readily answer, and not with a certainty.

"I can't say. We have our own protection against any warp energies they might throw at us, but if the demonship and the defence fleet combine their firepower, it might just be enough to bring us down."

That was when the conversation devolved into a shouting match. Lutrex immediately went on the offensive, arguing they should strike while they had a chance and bring down the smaller vessels, giving him time to launch his boarding parties. Darmos countered, arguing quite brazenly that it was foolish to charge in head first when the demonship most likely had longer range than they did, and would be striking at them long before they got within firing range. Even Alexandros, usually calm, found himself playing devil's advocate and launching a tirade at both, all the while trying to think of a viable solution.

It took the crack of a cane against the cold steel of the bridge to quieten all three. Their eyes and attention turned to a second hunched figure, one much younger than Darmos but just as wise.

"The orbital weapons platforms."

At that moment Alexandros was the most grateful he'd ever been to have a savant like Brastor Teem. Over a century old and with a knowledge more suited to general application – and of course the work of the Ordo Malleus – he had still managed to see what two Inquisitors and a naval captain had missed.

Their way in.


End file.
